Hobophobia

I have a confession to make. I am hobophobic. Now, before you get all up in arms and start having parades all up and down my neighborhood, look closely. I didn’t say I’m homophobic, I said I am HOBOphobic. I have an intense fear of Hobos. And I’m not talking about homeless people. I’ve got no beef with them, nor do I fear them. I’m talking specifically about Hobos. Train riding, pie stealing, no-teeth having, Hobos.
Now, a lot of people might be thinking, “what’s wrong with Hobos? They’re harmless.” But that is a damn lie. When you think of Hobos what is the first thing you picture? A sack tied to the end of a stick, right? But have you ever wondered what they really carry in those sacks? Have you ever noticed the size of those sacks? They are the size of a human head! And that is exactly what those so-called harmless Hobos are carrying around all the time. The head of their most recent victim. Why else would they choose to live the lifestyle that they do? If you had lopped off someone’s head and were carrying it around in a sack tied to a stick, would you stay in one town for very long? No, you’d hop on the nearest train you could and ride it to the next town where you could find your next victim.

That’s why every time I hear the train near my house, I take my pies off the window sill and immediately lock up all the doors and windows. And if you don’t want to end up with your head in a sack, you should too.